Herbert Medical And Technology
The restroom was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the grey marble walls under the hum of a soft overhead light. The silence was thick, broken only by the steady flow of water from the faucet as Blaze Baldwin stood over the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing his hands with slow, methodical movements. The cold water splashed against his skin as if trying to cool the storm that brewed inside him.
Behind him, like a soldier on standby, stood Arthur—his loyal assistant, clipboard in hand, but unusually tense. His eyes darted occasionally to Blaze's reflection in the mirror, waiting for his boss to break the silence.
"Is Savannah gone?" Blaze finally asked, his voice low and calm, yet tinged with an underlying chill.
"Yes, boss. She left the company about thirty minutes ago," Arthur replied without hesitation.
Blaze took a moment before responding. He reached for the towel next to the sink, drying his hands slowly. The atmosphere felt like it dropped a few degrees as the tension began to mount.
"Make sure he doesn't—"
"Boss, about Mr. Hall... how are we going to—" Arthur began, but Blaze interrupted him sharply, turning slightly toward the mirror, his jaw clenched.
"I saw you earlier," Blaze said, his voice deceptively soft. "That expression on your face when I dismissed him. Explain it."
Arthur straightened up as if jolted by a splash of cold water. He took a slow breath. There was no escaping Blaze. There never was, especially when it came to him. And particularly not when Savannah was involved.
"He was one of the crucial members of this project," Arthur confessed, his voice steady but tinged with concern.
"And you dismissed him right at the beginning. I... I had my doubts, boss. About the fallout. It could lead to a significant loss for the company—and for you."
The silence between them stretched like a taut wire.
Blaze remained quiet for a moment, his back still turned, his head slightly bowed. Then he turned off the faucet with a decisive click and faced Arthur fully, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.
"What's your job here, Arthur?" Blaze asked, his voice still calm but now carrying a chill.
"To... to assist you and help with any obstacles that might-" Arthur trailed off, suddenly aware of Blaze's intent. He lowered his gaze slightly. "I'm sorry."
Blaze stepped closer, took the towel from Arthur's hand, and began patting his hands dry, slow and deliberate. The sound of the fabric brushing skin echoed in the stillness.
"I appreciate your honesty," Blaze finally said, his tone steady. "But..."
He paused, raising his eyes—those dark, unreadable eyes—and locked them onto Arthur's.
"I told you before," he continued, his voice dropping to a sharper, quieter pitch, "don't ever medde with anything that involves Savannah. I was clear last time, wasn't I?"
Arthur froze, the weight of the warning hitting him like a punch. "Yes, boss. I remember. I'm sorry... my apologies, boss."
Then, to Blaze's surprise, Arthur sank to his knees, his head bowed in remorse.
"I overstepped. Please forgive me."
Blaze remained still, looking down at his assistant with a mix of disappointment and frustration clouding his expression. Seeing Arthur—a man who had always been loyal, reliable, and methodical—on his knees stirred something within him.
But it wasn't pity. It was something deeper. It was disgust. Not entirely at Arthur... but at the doubt. The nerve to question him when Savannah was involved.
Blaze stepped back, tossing the towel onto the counter. His voice turned as cold as steel.
"This isn't good," he muttered, turning his back on Arthur and walking away.
He didn't glance back.
The door swung shut behind him with a dull thud, leaving Arthur still kneeling on the marble floor, the echo of his failure hanging in the air like a bitter perfume.
Blaze's shoulders were tense as he strode down the hallway, his mind racing. Not about Mr. Hall. Not about Arthur.
But about Savannah.
He was losing his patience with the world. And with the people in it.
Anyone who dared to question him. Anyone who even thought about touching what was his.
And right now, there was one thing he simply couldn't afford to lose.
Savannah.
Later that Day
The night enveloped the city like a thick velvet curtain, both soft and stifling. Anastasia sat in the dimly lit hotel room, the overhead lamp casting a warm golden glow that pooled on the desk in front of her. Outside her window, the world buzzed with life—cars honking in the distance, laughter spilling from the sidewalks, the city pulsing with its relentless energy. But inside, there was only stillness... and her own silence.
She wore a robe, a delicate shade of lavender, loosely tied at the waist. Her long, dark hair tumbled over one shoulder, still slightly damp from the shower she had hoped would wash away the tension in her body. It hadn't. Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, fingers intertwined, knuckles nearly white. The clock ticked softly in the background—another minute slipping by, another breath she had to remind herself to take.
Two days.
She had been here for two whole days and still hadn't seen Savannah.
She had played out the moment in her mind a hundred times—what she would say, how she would say it, the expression that might flicker across Savannah's face. Would it be shock? Anger? Hurt? Or something entirely different? Would Savannah even want to see her? Could she ever find it in her heart to forgive her?
Her thoughts spiraled endlessly, each one more suffocating than the last. And at the center of it all was him.
Blaze Baldwin.
That man was a storm wrapped in an expensive suit. Dangerous, possessive, fiercely loyal to the woman. Savannah was his now, that he always claims—and Anastasia understood that it wasn't just love that bound them, but secrets, loyalty, and a kind of intimacy that scorched anything that dared to get too close. If Blaze found out she was here...
Her heart tightened at the thought.
No. She had to tread carefully. She couldn't let her presence harm Savannah. She couldn't let him find out.
Her phone buzzed against the wooden surface, the sudden jolt catching her off guard. She glanced at it, and her breath hitched when she saw the name lighting up the screen.
Noah.
Her heart melted a little. With shaky fingers, she picked it up and answered.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.
"Hey, love," came the warm, familiar voice on the other end, instantly grounding her. "How are you holding up?"
She stole a glance at the city lights through the sheer curtain, her reflection barely visible in the glass. "Good," she replied softly. "For now."
There was a pause. A gentle one, filled with unspoken concern.
"Did you meet her?"
Anastasia let out a slow breath, her fingers brushing against the old photo resting beside her laptop. The edges were frayed, but the memory was vivid—Savannah, laughing with her under the sun, arms linked, eyes sparkling with dreams. A moment before everything shattered.
"No," she finally whispered, shaking her head even though he couldn't see her. "Not yet. I need to find the right moment. I-I don't want to scare her off. Maybe tomorrow. I'll go see her tomorrow."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know," she confessed, her voice wavering slightly. "But I have to do this, Noah. She've carried this ache for too long. I need to see her face. I need her to know that she's not alone."
"You know the risks," he said gently. "If something goes wrong..."
"I know," she interrupted, her tone sharper this time. "I'm being careful. I haven't left the hotel. I've only reached out to people I trust. I've made sure he doesn't know I'm here."
Another pause hung in the air before Noah's voice came through again, steady and filled with a quiet kind of love.
"If anything happens—anything at all—you call me. I don't care what time it is. I'll be there."
A soft, grateful smile spread across her lips. She hadn't realized just how much she needed to hear those words.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I will. I promise."
They lingered in that silence for a moment, their hearts beating in sync despite the distance between them.
"How's our baby?" she asked after a beat, her voice softening.
"He's doing good" Noah replied, a smile evident in his tone. "But, I think he misses you."
Anastasia chuckled quietly, "I miss him too. Both of you."
"We miss you more."
They chatted a little longer, sharing small, everyday things—safe topics that felt comforting.
Then came the goodnight.
After hanging up, she sat in silence, the phone still pressed against her chest. The clock ticked away, the city outside continued its hustle, and her heart thudded heavily with the weight of what tomorrow might bring.
Slowly, she stood up, walked across the room, and pulled the curtains shut. The room dimmed slightly, wrapping her in a cocoon of quiet. She crawled into bed, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and lay there, staring at the ceiling.
She felt scared.
But more than that, she felt ready.
Whatever tomorrow held, she would face it head-on.
She had come this far for Savannah.
She wouldn't run away.
With no more fearing Blaze Baldwin.
Let tomorrow come.
She would step into it with her head held high—even if her heart trembled.
Author's Note :
Thankyou for reading<3
Have a good day/night<3<3